


take two

by spells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little Angst I guess?, Apologies, Fluff, KRTSK Fluff Week 2018, Light Angst, M/M, Sunrises, not hurt/comfort but still ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: Kuroo finds him on the roof, the sun yawning slowly, up the skyline, hugged by fluffy white clouds."Tsukki, I’m sorry."





	take two

**Author's Note:**

> **day three:** ~~pictures | cuddling~~ | _sunrise/sunset_

Here’s how things end.

Kuroo finds him on the roof, and he feels dropped into a romcom. Dropped into the spot where he finds the romantic interest, finds _the boy_ , and is also supposed to find himself. Not that he even needs to find himself. He’s feeling alright, thanks for asking, by the way.

The sky is greyish blue, pink and pastel yellow around them. The sun yawning slowly, up the skyline, hugged by fluffy white clouds. A constructed movie set.

Tsukishima has brought a mattress up here, bare and queen-sized and growing stained. One blanket, no pillows. The blanket bunches up around his hips and spills to the ground, not even on the mattress anymore.

Kuroo sits beside him. He can feel Tsukishima’s warmth in the cold, dewy morning. The produced city weather. Rain weighing down on them, heavy in the air, even if it hasn’t rained in a few weeks.

He feels like there should be a soundtrack to all of this. A stripped love song, finger-snapping as drums, synth. Tsukishima is staring off into the skyline, and Kuroo refuses – refuses – to look at his profile. He doesn’t even feel right looking at him like this, like it’d be an invasion. Maybe he’s been spending too long with Kenma. Still. He doesn’t want to know if Tsukishima’s cheeks are red from embarrassment or cold or crying, doesn’t want to know if there are tears clinging to his chin. That’s not important.

Instead, he starts talking, because he figures he should, sooner or later.

“Yamaguchi let me in. He didn’t even ask any questions – did you tell him what happened? What did you mention? I figure he knows I fucked up, knows I need to apologize… I don’t know if you told him the specifics. He might have not even let me in, if you did. I know you’re not much of a vocal person, and you bottle things up instead of talking about what upsets you, but it’s Yamaguchi. I don’t know.”

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything. Kuroo still doesn’t look at him, because now there’s more than rain as weight on his shoulders. His guilt, his responsibility, they press him to his spot. He can barely move, but he looks down and realizes his hands are shaking. It makes him chuckle, uncomfortable, ashamed and self-conscious.

“I- …Tsukki, I’m sorry. I’m not even going to try to justify myself, nothing can… I mean… It’s stupid. There’s nothing I can say that will justify fucking up. Nothing… Justifies. And it’s not my place, well, to reason. I fucked up.” He feels his voice catch in his throat, hoarse, and his eyes sting. It’s not windy. That can’t be justified, either. “I’m sorry, Tsukishima. I can’t fix things. All I can… All I can give you is an apology. That’s all I’m in a place to… To say. I’m sorry. I swear I am. And you don’t have to forgive me, really, not now or… Yeah. I’m truly sorry.”

A second passes, then another. A motorcycle zooms down the street, seven stores beneath them. Some blocks away, a car honks, and bubbly, indistinguishable chatter walks around the building, fading out as softly as it faded in.

There’s no reply to Kuroo’s words. He’s done his part, he figures, and stands. Everything he didn’t say clings to his tongue, all the justification and the blubbery apologies and the messy words, trying to climb up his throat. He swallows it all, and walks back to the stairs.

The metal door is squeaky and rusty, orange paint mingling with the golden-brown rust and holes. It sounds invasive when he opens it, infinitely louder than when he’d gotten here, but he tries to let that slip. Again, he swallows.

“Stay.”

It barely sounds like Tsukishima’s voice at all. It’s quiet, and heavy, and odd, and as hesitant as Kuroo is. He’s so glad, though. Happiness bursts inside of him like fireworks, because he’s been asked to stay. Of course, he shouldn’t get too pumped about it, because Tsukishima could very well just shit-talk him for half an hour and tell him to leave again.

That doesn’t seem like it, but either way.

There’s another solid minute of just staring at the skyline, sitting beside Tsukishima once again. Kuroo wonders if he’s going to say anything at all, or if he just wanted him to stay so he’d… stay. Not so they’d talk, or anything of the sorts. Company is nice, he admits.

Then, he speaks.

“I forgive you.” He pauses, and takes a big breath. Shakily, but still. Kuroo can tell he’s trying to keep his composure, and if he’s crying, it’s silently. “Yes, you fucked up. Definitely. But…”

Kuroo only realizes what he’s doing when Tsukishima takes his hand from his knee and intertwines their fingers. His hand is cold, impossibly cold, like it always is. He wants to squeeze it, both to show that he’s there and to make sure that he is. He doesn’t. His eyes, however, start stinging again.

“I forgive you, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Finally, Kuroo looks up, looks at him. Only because he knows – and he is correct, of course – that Tsukishima is already looking right back. He does his best not to stare and overanalyze, but there are tear tracks on his cheeks, his nose is red, and his gaze flickers with uncertainty. A bit like he’s trying to find something, read something, in Kuroo’s eyes. Also like he doesn’t know what that is.

Now, he knows he shouldn’t, and he won’t, but Kuroo really wants to kiss him. Like in the movies. Passionate and slow and loving, perfect, almost staged. He opens his mouth to say something, but Tsukishima sharpens his gaze and frowns, like he’s judging him, and it’s a silent interruption.

“You better not make me regret this, you twat,” he grumbles, voice still raw from tears.

Kuroo chuckles, and squeezes his hand. It doesn’t seem to bother Tsukishima, so he doesn’t loosen his grip. “I’ll try not to.”

With his free hand, Tsukishima tries to punch Kuroo’s arm, evidently bothered but still jokingly so. Now, he’s visibly lighthearted, cheerful, even if he doesn’t exactly show it to a layman’s eye. It’s more like something Kuroo calls ‘true Tsukishima’ – if you dig in far enough, past the sass and the grumpiness and the indifference, you find gold. Or, well, cheerfulness. Kuroo catches his fist with his hand and stops him, and in sync, they look at each other.

Neither of them looks away, although Tsukishima’s cheeks grow a little redder.

So, listen, Kuroo doesn’t want to push his luck. He doesn’t want to go to far, and lose the forgiveness he’s barely gotten. If anything, he definitely does not want to fuck up again. He has already done that enough, thanks.

It seems so right, though. Almost on cue – almost staged. It’s the most fitting moment, birds singing in the sparse trees, the sun full and bright on the horizon, blinding him on the corner of his vision. Tsukishima’s face is all lit planes and stark shadows, light catching on the softest places – his cupid’s bow, his eyelashes – and casting the faintest shade – beneath his lips, underneath his cheekbone.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, because he almost feels forced to. Not forced to ask – that’s minimal decency, especially considering how fresh from a disaster he is -, but circumstantially forced to kiss him.

Well, of course he really wants to, too.

Tsukishima studies him for a second, and tugs his arm as to pull him closer. He does it so suddenly that Kuroo falls forward without meaning to. And he would have stopped and caught himself – he was already on his way to do it –, but Tsukishima cups his jaw, closes his eyes and kisses him before he can do so.

Consequently, they both flop down on the mattress, but they don’t stop or question it. Had it not been there, they’d worry, but there it was. It’s not the time to worry about the possibilities.

Later, when the sun is already halfway on its way to the top, fully risen, and they find Yamaguchi sipping a mug of tea with his knowing eyes, Kuroo lets himself indulge in his stupid ideas once again. The camera zooming out and the credits rolling in, a full version of the love song as background music.

Then, in spunky cursive font, white but casting shadow, _the end._

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/karasunya)
> 
> it is wednesday my Dudes . henlo . thank u for reading this - inspired by the romcom that happens inside my head! comments, kudos, bookmarks, and screaming (positive or negative!) are v much appreciated! see youuu tomorrow... hype tomorrow's fic pls its great


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